


Make Thy Vows

by japansace



Series: My Love, We Deserve the Softest Eternity [6]
Category: Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: + magic, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Coronation, Declarations Of Love, Elves, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Prince Victor Nikiforov, Princess Yuuri Katsuki, Weddings, so many kisses omfg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-21
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-03-05 01:34:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,661
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25426219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/japansace/pseuds/japansace
Summary: It was the perfect wedding, in Yuuri’s opinion. He wouldn’t change a single aspect about it.Except that he has to do it all over again.
Relationships: Katsuki Yuuri/Victor Nikiforov
Series: My Love, We Deserve the Softest Eternity [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1133426
Comments: 38
Kudos: 207





	Make Thy Vows

**Author's Note:**

> *that one guy from The Princess Bride voice* Mawwiage~
> 
> I could feel myself butting against the wall of _potential_ writer's block, so I banged this whole thing out last night to stretch out my muscles and get back into the swing of things.
> 
> Please enjoy!
> 
> Ages:  
> Victor: 900  
> Yuuri: 860

Yuuri awakes to a gasp, halfway choking on his own breath.

His hand goes to the base of his throat, instinctively, to seek out his betrothal necklace—grip it, feel out the shape of it for comfort—but finds only skin there, prodding the area still long after it’s proven bare.

Then he finally recalls.

 _Oh, I’m getting married today._

For the second time, mind you, but married all the same.

And it really was _the same:_ He would be marrying the exact same man.

His Vitya.

A warmth fills him then, almost enough to distract away from the absence of the cord around his neck.

They had already been married for ninety years, if they were going by Yuuri and Victor’s account. A near-century ago, Victor had led him up a hill to look at the cherry blossoms sprouting in early spring—his hand shaking in Yuuri’s, ever so endearingly—and sat him down in a grassy knoll, where he had previously constructed a little garden party on the bank of a stream. A blanket was lain out upon the ground; sweet teas sat fragrant in their cups, candle wicks burning in their tins. The air was soft with fresh-fallen snow, Victor still amateurish in the control of his talent. His nerves had summoned a cold-snap in his make up of the scene, which Yuuri laughed at lightly, not yet knowing its cause.

Victor had fed him frosted cakes and woven flower petals into his hair, lips parting every so often as though to say something but backing out each time at the last second. Yuuri itched to be inside his mind, but Victor had ward him off earlier, insisting he needed a few days to surprise Yuuri with something—but not before assuring him, ardently, that it would be well worth the wait.

And well, they were elves. Of all creatures, they could afford to be the most patient.

Then Victor had taken his hand, as though to pass him over another treat. But the object he placed between them was hard, cold—though steadily warming with their palms overlapping. Yuuri tried to feel it further—investigate—but Victor kept his fingers firm, covering them until he’d at last took a breath and leaned back, allowing to see Yuuri what was there.

A garnet lied in Yuuri’s palm, caressed in gold and strung with whisper-soft leather. For a moment, he only blinked, his brain not comprehending the evidence before him; but one look at Victor confirmed it, seeing his love before him so nervous and vulnerable, his throat bobbing with anticipation and _trust._ Yuuri nearly forgot the thing in his hand, in his elation; he launched himself into Victor’s arms, only just managing to keep a hold on the betrothal necklace while he covered Victor’s face in a smattering of kisses, covering each and every patch of skin he could reach.

Eventually Yuuri allowed himself to be still long enough for Victor to slip the necklace over his head, put it right where it belonged against his heart. And in return, Yuuri dug through his pocket for his own necklace, wreathing Victor in the sapphire and silver he had so doggedly been guarding all these years, hoping, _praying_ he would one day find the one who would accept him wholly, wear it with pride for the rest of their eternities.

Later, Victor confided in him the reason for his nerves: He thought _Yuuri_ might have thought it too soon. “It’s only been ten years, you know?” “Mortals often get married in far less time.” “We’re not mortals, Yuuri.” “What does it matter? I’ve known since the first moment I laid eyes on you that I never wanted to look at anyone else ever again.” Of course Yuuri was kissed senseless, after that little comment.

And thus the subject was settled.

They had a very small wedding that was more a formality than anything, at the end of spring that year. Only Yuuri’s family was in attendance, as Victor and his parents weren’t on speaking terms then. They chose the beach of Sealand to say their vows, the tide lapping at their ankles, the sun sinking into the horizon as Yuuri and Victor promised to love each other now and forevermore. The wind whipped at their frocks of crystal-white lace, silk of soft baby blues and pastel pinks wrapped around their necks and waists. They placed their betrothal necklaces on each other—never meant to be removed again—and sealed their oath with a kiss, rubbing noses together long after Mari started to give them grief over it.

It was the perfect wedding, in Yuuri’s opinion. He wouldn’t change a single aspect about it.

Except that he has to do it all over again.

Yuuri groans at this thought, falling back against the mattress.

It’s not that he doesn’t want to marry Victor again—far from it; he’d marry Victor every day, from now until the end of eternity, if Victor so wanted—but this would be a far more tedious affair. Because, see, Yuuri and Victor’s marriage _didn’t count_ , in the eyes of Woodland. Since Victor was not the crown prince at the time of their wedding, Yuuri was not made princess then. And since he was not made princess then, he is _not yet part of the royal family_ , in accordance with the traditions of Woodland.

Thus, they would have to get married.

_Again._

And immediately following, Yuuri was to be coronated.

That has Yuuri pulling at the covers, hiding in his bed and never wanting to come out.

_So many eyes on him..._

A knock interrupts his spiraling thoughts. He peeks his head out, eyes glowing red from beneath the shadow of his blanket. _Who is it?_

_Your soon-to-be husband._

Yuuri relaxes, with a shuddering breath. “Come in.”

Victor does, smiling wryly. He’s already dressed in his court’s-finest, looking far more ready for war than the last time Yuuri wed him. “Ready to be married again?” he asks.

“Yes.” That, Yuuri has no qualms with. It’s the coronation that comes after that has him shaken.

It’s like Victor is the mind talent in their relationship, with how his mouth goes flat at Yuuri’s discreet apprehension. He sits himself on the edge of the bed, grasping at Yuuri’s knee beneath the covers. “I know it’s daunting, my dear. I ran from it once—but with you here, I feel as though I can finally rise up to the task.”

Yuuri covers Victor’s hand with his own, biting into his lower lip. “How do you do it?” he says, barely above a whisper. “Be royalty, I mean.”

“There is no one way to do it.” Victor adjusts himself; Yuuri can already see the weight of responsibility, settling over his back. “You merely do your best—use your best judgement, learn all that you can and have as much empathy as you can stand.”

“You take to it so much better than me.” Yuuri traces patterns on the back of Victor’s wrist.

Victor smiles—more genuine, this time. “I’ve had more practice. But soon enough you’ll catch up to me. Isn’t that what you’ll be swearing before the goddess today, when we pledge ourselves to each other again?”

Yuuri takes up Victor’s hand, presses it to his sternum. His eyelashes are a little wet—but with determination this time rather than fear. “ _Yes_.”

_Where you will go, I shall follow. Where you shall be, I will be as well. What you shall do, I will make, too, my business. With you and me, there is no path we go down in which we cannot succeed._

With this sentiment still ringing in his mind, Victor helps Yuuri into his wedding garb, with the softest of touches and the most reverent of words.

* * *

Truthfully, Yuuri doesn’t remember much of the wedding. He hadn’t had to say a lot—only bow his head at particular moments, as Yakov droned on in ancient Elvish. Yuuri and Victor had not faced each other, as they did in their previous wedding. Instead they looked ahead at Woodland’s tapestry, the whole of the kingdom’s attention set upon their backs.

Yuuri had few solaces then, one of which being that he knew somewhere in the crowd, his parents and sister watched; and another being that he was allowed to hold Victor’s hand throughout the process, their arms outstretched between them as Yakov continued to invoke the many blessings of the goddess.

He does recall, however, having a vivid vision of, one day, Victor taking Yakov’s spot from where he was before him, Victor reading out of the ancient texts as he married his and Yuuri’s own children in much the same way as they were being married now.

It was the only time in the whole of the ceremony in which he was grateful that they were faced away from the denizens of Woodland, in so that they could not see Yuuri’s ferocious blush.

By the time his betrothal necklace is placed safely around his neck once more, he almost forgets to worry about what comes next.

Victor goes first of course, taking a knee before Yakov and all of Woodland. His father crowns him: in a circlet of clear-cut emeralds, as green as the trees from which the object hails. Yuuri goes next, shaking like a leaf—though _imperceptibly,_ he hopes, from this distance—as he is crowned as well: in a tiara of auburn citrine, like foliage turning over as the season of autumn begins to close in.

“I present to you: Crown Prince Victor and Princess Yuuri!”

And as a noise of elation meets Yuuri’s ears—Victor’s hand squeezing his, looking at him from the corner of his eye in such a way that Yuuri doesn’t even have to peer into his mind to know just how much he is loved—he thinks for the first time that, perhaps, he can do this after all.

**Author's Note:**

> Also, because I'm me, the gemstones of their betrothal necklaces have relevant meanings:
> 
> Garnet (Yuuri's): passion, devotion, balance of the mind  
> Sapphire (Victor's): royalty, loyalty, bringer of good fortune
> 
> (And yes, I planned this from the beginning.)


End file.
